In Praise of My Fellow Man

Generally speaking, I hate Wal-Mart. I hate the big-boxness. The battleship blue of its sign. And the crowds, which are inevitably horrid from the moment you pull into the parking lot to the checkout line. But tonight, I needed two disparate things - groceries and a tire guage. No choice about either one, and Wal-Mart was more appealing than making two stops. My cupboards are in a sad state of affairs with all my comings and goings. And the new car comes with a guage that tells me when my tire pressure is low - this time around because of the sudden drop in temperatures.

I decided to chance it. I actually maneuvered into a parking space without much ado. I was mad that the only tire guage left was the $10 one. I debated what to do about knocking off a glass jar candle - Kim will attest this accident seems to be my lot in life. But I managed to assemble a reasonable menu for dinner, grab a loaf of bread, some Diet Cokes.

At the checkout lines, all of the under 20 items lines were packed, so I picked the traditional fare. The guy in front of me had a buggy full of groceries. But I was too tired to care, finding some relief in making it to the Wal-Mart finish line to seek out a shorter line. He had already unloaded a few things from his cart when he saw me fall in line behind him. And he put those items back in his cart and invited me to go in front of him. That never happens. I thanked him for his kindness and pulled ahead.

Checking out in front of me was a young black man. He pulled cash from his pocket to pay and unknowingly scattered a few bills on the floor. I didn't notice until he started to walk away, but I managed to catch him in time for him to get his money.

On the way home, I thought about all the little ways that humanity finds you when you least expect it. Sometimes in quiet subtle ways, like some guy responding to your harried face and letting you go first in the Wal-Mart line. He could've ignored me. I could've ignored the money on the floor or taken it for myself - it was just a couple of dollars. But somehow, the kindness showed to me made me want to make the effort to call attention to someone else's potential misfortune.

After dinner, I cleaned a few moldy things out of the fridge and took the trash out to the big cans behind the house. Tomorrow's pick up day, so I rolled mine to the end of the drive. On a lark, I rolled my neighbor's cans out there, too. I'm not the neighborly type - I only know their names and not much else about them.

It's a cold clear night, this week marking the first taste of frost. Downtown's bright - they're filming One Tree Hill down on the corner. As I turned back toward the house, I saw the lights blazing in everyone's windows. Maybe one of them was inside thinking about a bad day. Or talking on the phone to a good friend. Or just cozied up inside not wanting to venture out into the cold. Whatever they might be doing, they don't have to take the trash out.